


Little Intimacies

by see_addy_write



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Nightmares, Pre-Slash, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 16:30:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5633452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/see_addy_write/pseuds/see_addy_write
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe has nightmares. Finn reminds him that he's not alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Intimacies

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! this is my first fic in a while, and my initial foray into the Star Wars fandom. i'm a long-time fan, but i've never felt the inclination to write anything until i saw the latest movie. i'm not entirely happy with this fic - something about it seems disjointed, and i don't think i did Poe justice, but meh. i've stared at it for so long that i can't be objective any more. 
> 
> i hope you enjoy! :)

“Um – Poe? Are you okay?” 

Waking up with a scream in his throat and his fingers clenched around the cool metal of his blaster was commonplace for Poe Dameron. Most nights, it was easy enough to swallow harshly, put the shake-inducing thoughts from his mind, and roll back into his bunk to sleep. It wasn’t pleasant, and he didn’t always wake up feeling well-rested, but Poe could handle it. 

“Yeah.” The reply was curt, hard, and a clear signal that Poe did not want to talk about the nightmares that made sleep his number one enemy. Everyone in Poe’s squad knew that his mind was fucked up after his encounter with the Master of the Knights of Ren, and the ones that knew him well knew that sleep had never come easy to their celebrity pilot. They left it alone out of respect, or out of discomfort – Poe didn’t really care which, as long as it meant he didn’t have to talk about it.

Finn didn’t know to leave it alone, though. In fact, Poe had forgotten to give his new bunkmate a warning about the good possibility of a rude awakening, and then he’d been a jackass when Finn tried to check on him. The silence in the room bordered on painful, and Poe cursed himself for being so callous. 

With one last mournful thought to denial, Poe leaned over and flipped on the desk lamp next to his bunk. Finn was sitting, too, feet on the floor and hands clasped in his lap and he looked uncertainly in Poe’s direction. The pilot shot the other man what he hoped was a reassuring smile – though, judging by the look on Finn’s face, he had not succeeded. The former Storm Trooper looked uncomfortable, his full lips tugged down in a frown and expressive eyes wide with worry. 

Poe mimicked Finn’s position on the bed, shivering a little as his bare feet hit the cool flooring. “Hey, look. I shouldn’t have been so – hostile, when I woke up. I tend to sleep kinda rough, some nights. I should’ve warned you before you moved in, probably.” This time, the smile Poe threw Finn was much more genuine, with more of his usual rakish charm. The chill of the nightmare had already begun to pass, most likely due to Finn’s solid, if uncertain, presence in the room. 

It had seemed the right thing to do, inviting Finn to share a bunk with him. Helping to destroy StarKiller had gotten Poe a room of his own on the Resistance base. At the time, the privacy was more than welcome – until Finn woke from his lightsaber-induced coma looking lost and alone. Finding out that Rey had gone off hunting for Skywalker had only made that look worse, and Poe hadn’t been able to stand it. The invitation to stay with him had slipped out of his mouth before he’d even considered it, and the way Finn’s eyes lit up had eradicated any chance of taking them back. Poe wasn’t that heartless.

“You’re apologizing for having a nightmare?” Finn clarified, one eyebrow raised skeptically. “Don’t be an idiot, Dameron.” He stood slowly, offering Poe a hesitant smile before settling on the end of Poe’s bunk. The mattress sagged beneath his weight, so Poe slid back slightly, telling himself that he only did it to distribute their weight evenly and relieve some of the burden in the center of the bed. Inwardly, he admitted that it was unnerving, having Finn so close so soon after an emotional upheaval. It made him want things – things that Finn would probably find strange and cowardly coming from the self-proclaimed ‘best pilot in the Resistance.’

“I’m apologizing for waking you up, then,” Poe said flippantly, fingers knotting in the tangled blanket beneath him. He covered a yawn with one hand, watching Finn and waiting for whatever would come next. 

Finn shrugged, obviously trying to keep up with Poe’s nonchalance. He didn’t quite manage it, but Poe gave him points for effort. 

“I grew up in Trooper barracks,” he reminded Poe quietly, something cold and shadowed in his eyes. “Everyone there had been taken from their families, brainwashed and conditioned, and then forced into battle. Nightmares were pretty normal.” 

The reminder managed to make Poe feel even more like shit. It was impressive, really, how self-centered and foolish he could be in one evening. Of course Finn was used to nightmares – both his own and that of his comrades. The First Order had raised them all in Hell, and no one escaped from Hell without consequences. Not even men as resourceful and kind as Finn. 

“Uh, right.” Poe rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, wondering where his supposed silver tongue had gone. There were few situations that he couldn’t talk his way out of, even fewer people that he couldn’t charm with a wink and a smile. But here in the dark, facing Finn’s earnest, open expression, he couldn’t summon more than a stammer. 

“Hell, you must think I’m an ass,” Poe said finally, shaking his head at his own folly. “Acting like a nightmare’s the end of the world when you’ve seen so much worse.” Sure, Poe was a seasoned pilot and had seen death – but Finn had been drowning in it, and he would do well to remember that from now on. It was the only way he could be any sort of friend to the newest member of the Resistance. 

The reaction to Poe’s words wasn’t at all what was expected, however. Finn’s brows fell into a deep ‘V’, and he all but glared at Poe as he said insistently, “You were tortured! Kylo Ren forced his way into your mind! That’s just as bad as being brainwashed into following orders, if not worse.” Finn was closer now, one hand hovering over Poe’s knee as if afraid to touch him. “So no,” the dark man continued, somewhat snappishly, “I don’t think you’re an ass. I just – I just didn’t want you to feel like you were alone. If I would’ve known you’d react this way, I would’ve kept it to myself.” 

 

There was a beat of tense silence, and Poe felt something inside of him snap. This … thing ... with Finn was too hard to hold himself back from, and part of him had been wanting to tell someone the truth for weeks now, since the return from StarKiller. And Finn had said he didn’t want Poe to feel alone, hadn’t he? 

“It’s not the torture,” Poe blurted, and Finn flinched a little at the vehemence in his tone. “At least … not just the torture, anyway.” Poe immediately regretted his choice, and would have snatched the words back if it were possible. But Finn had heard, and there was no taking it back – Poe could only move forward, now, and hope that his friend would understand that talking about this wouldn’t help matters.

It was the first time Poe had said the words aloud, admitted it to anyone but himself. Finn wasn’t the first one to make the assumption that Poe was dealing with the after-effects of trauma- General Organa blamed the bruise-like shadows under his eyes on his encounter with Kylo Ren, cited them as evidence for why he should be seeing the base therapists - but Poe knew the truth. 

Kylo Ren was a scary fuck, and the pilot wasn’t dumb enough to say that the mental torture had helped his situation – but the nightmares and flashbacks had started long before he started palling around with the Master of the Knights of Ren. One didn’t garner the reputation the best pilot in the Resistance by sitting on his backside and watching as others fought. No, Poe had been in the thick of battle since he was tall enough to reach the floor of an X-Wing, and that kind of experience didn’t come without nightmares. He had seen more men killed than he had ever imagined possible, and been the cause of those deaths more times than not.

It wasn’t that Poe regretted his actions. It wasn’t that, not at all. He knew his duty to the Resistance, knew that he had to wage war on the First Order to help achieve peace in the galaxy. War didn’t come without casualties, and every life Poe had taken had been for that eventual outcome. 

Knowing that he had no other choice had never stopped the nightmares, though.

Finn was studying Poe, then, brows furrowed in question. “What, then?” he asked quietly, as if worried speaking too loudly would shatter the tenuous bond between them. Poe understood the feeling. He felt that way as he navigated their friendship, too – always afraid that he was taking advantage of the fact that Finn didn’t know how to be his own man, or worrying that he would say something that sent his new friend running in the other direction. 

“Uh –“ Poe rubbed at the back of his neck again, bottom lip between his teeth as he considered how to answer. Telling the truth might result in Finn seeing him differently, as the coward he sometimes saw in himself. But he had brought up the subject, and there was no way to change it without seeming suspicious. 

After a moment of careful consideration, Poe began. “I’ve been a part of the Resistance for almost ten years, Finn. I’ve seen a lot of fighting. Killed a lot of people.” He shrugged, trying to infuse enough truth into his dismissal that it didn’t sound like he was just trying to get Finn to stop prying. “That shit tends to have you waking up screaming, like you said.” 

Finn regarded him skeptically, but didn’t push. He didn’t move, either, his eyes lingering on Poe’s face as if expecting him to break down and give the truth in the next few seconds. It got under Poe’s skin, that look, and he fidgeted a little before lying back down on the bed, expecting Finn to follow his lead. 

“—we were conditioned not to scream.” 

The words echoed in the tiny room, breaking the awkward silence and replacing it with shared horror. “Soldiers weren’t supposed to show weakness, you know? And Storm Troopers were supposed to be even beyond them. We weren’t supposed to be human.” 

Poe listened quietly, sensing that there was more – and Finn relaxed against the wall behind Poe’s head, his fingers brushing the sleep-mussed curls. There was a moment of absolute stillness, in which Poe could feel the tension in Finn’s body ratchet up several notches. “Sorry, I –“

“Finn.” Poe rolled his head to look up at the other man in exasperation, because really? They were playing therapist here, talking about things that Poe had never mentioned to anyone else, and Finn was afraid he was going to get upset because of an accidental touch? No. That needed to stop. “You can touch me. You know that, right? You definitely don’t have to apologize for it.”

Without stopping to consider the many, many ways that this could go wrong, Poe reached up and wrapped his fingers around Finn’s wrist, then guided the lax hand to rest on top of his head. “I don’t mind. I really, really don’t.” It was as close as Poe could come to saying that he wanted the contact – that if they were going to have this conversation, the physical contact might be the only thing that got him through it. 

For a long, tense moment, Poe worried that he had pushed too hard. But then, Finn stroked gently over tangled curls once, twice – and both men seemed to breathe a quick, relieved sigh.

Poe was a tactile person. He always had been. His mother had encouraged it, trading hugs and kisses like they were currency, and even dragging his cold, distant father into embraces when the situation called for it. After they had died, Poe hadn’t gone without – he’d just moved on to friends, lovers. Casual touches were easy. A brush of the shoulders or a high five after a mission gone well, or even just the simple slip of the hand while handing papers over. Intimate touches were a little harder – there had to be some measure of trust, but Poe always managed to get what he wanted. 

Finn had been denied all of that, but it was obvious he wanted it. And Poe wouldn’t deny him – couldn’t if he wanted to. Still, Finn’s hands in Poe’s hair were hesitant – like he was actually worried that Poe was going to push him away, despite his earlier reassurances. To further reassure the former Storm Trooper – and yeah, also because it felt fucking good to have the other man’s hands on him– Poe groaned. 

“Feels good,” he added, in case further encouragement was needed to continue the motion. The fingers carding through his curls faltered slightly, but didn’t cease. When Poe risked a glance up at Finn’s face from under drawn brows, he thought the other man looked pleased. As that was the main objective of this exchange, Poe couldn’t help but feel pride.

“So, uh, I guess you didn’t to do much touching, back in the First Order,” Poe said carefully, not wanting to spook Finn or make him uncomfortable. Especially not after all the work he’d done in getting the kid to relax. 

Finn shook his head, fingers still moving steadily through Poe’s mussed curls. His dark eyes followed their movement with incredulity, as if he couldn’t quite believe that he was allowed to do this. Poe fought the urge to squirm – that expression made something itch, deep in his chest. Nothing about him deserved the kind of reverence in Finn’s eyes. He was just a guy. A soldier. He was a hell of a pilot, and didn’t mind being worshipped in the air – but this was something different. Something more intimate, and a lot more terrifying. 

“Fraternization was forbidden,” Finn said after a moment’s pause. There was a bitter undercurrent to his words, the bite of a painful memory. “It didn’t matter what kind – we didn’t talk, outside of accepting orders or reporting in, and any kind of physical contact got you a one-way ticket to reconditioning.” 

The tremor that ran through Finn’s body was all Poe needed to know that reconditioning was just a fancy fucking word for torture. Hell, after meeting Kylo Ren, Poe was not surprised in the slightest – but rage still flared bright in his gut, and if he had any chance of taking out one of those bastards in their next skirmish, Poe knew he would take it. 

“Touch made it too easy to form attachments, I guess. Too easy to put another person above the mission.” Finn’s hand paused on Poe’s head, and when Poe glanced up, the other man was staring at the point of contact with incredulous eyes. “They never told us that, and I probably never would have known if it weren’t for you.” He smiled then, small but bright, and tugged at an unruly coil of hair near Poe’s ear. “I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be making you forget about your nightmares, not telling you about my own.”

Poe glared up at Finn, though the expression, admittedly, lost some of its ferocity thanks to his position in Finn’s lap and the bone-deep contentment he felt at the position. “Trust me, buddy. I’ve done all the talkin’ about me that I can take for one night. You wanna talk? I’ll listen. Or we can just lay here and you can keep that up –“ Poe gestured vaguely at Finn’s hands, “Since that seems to be helping both of us, and we’ll both get to keep our dignity without talking about feelings.” He winked to soften the words, and hopefully, the gesture would serve as a reminder that he was only joking.

Instead of smiling, like Poe had hoped, Finn frowned thoughtfully down at him. “This helps you, too? Really? You’re not just saying that?” The cautious disbelief on Finn’s face made Poe’s contentment dissipate. The other man seemed to truly think Poe was lying to him – but why? 

Poe raised an eyebrow, twisting to sit up and look Finn in the eye. “When have I ever not been straight with you?” he demanded, oddly insulted by the insinuation. Trust had blossomed – or at least, Poe had thought – almost instantly upon their meeting, and the idea that it wasn’t real caused actual pain in the pilot’s chest. He was uncomfortable enough with the rawness between them, the vulnerability he had just subjected himself to, without Finn acting so hesitant. 

But when Poe looked at Finn’s face again, the fragile hope on his shadowed features was enough to relax him. It would take a man more hard-hearted than Poe Dameron to shatter that hope, but he had no problem with being the one to help it grow. 

Sighing, Poe reached out and grabbed Finn’s hand, a small smile on his face. “Hey,” he said, the warmth he felt for his friend evident in his voice. “Seriously, Finn. This helps. You being here helps. And this –“ he squeezed Finn’s hand pointedly, “is the best cure for a nightmare, if you ask me. So if you get something out of it, too? Then I vote we keep it up.” 

Finn nodded once, the hesitance finally gone from his face as he smiled. “I like that idea,” he said earnestly, and the trust in his eyes was enough to make Poe grin back. The ease between them returned, and Poe slipped back down into the bed, insinuating himself between the covers. It should have felt strange, to be ready for sleep with someone he knew so little of in bed with him – but like so many things between himself and Finn, it came easily. 

“C’mon, man, lay down,” he whined, tugging at Finn’s wrist. Poe hadn’t allowed them to stop touching since that initial brush of fingers against his hair. “It’s late, I’m tired, and we both have some place to be in the morning.”

The X-Wings were flying out at 0800 the next day on a recon mission, looking for a new planet to host the Resistance base. It would hopefully be a short trip, as General Organa had already sent out a preliminary team – but for the first time since discovering his love of flying, Poe found himself dreading the mission. 

The reason wasn’t a mystery, nor anything that Poe wanted to analyze very closely. It was Finn, plain and simple. This mission was the first one he’d been permitted to fly since the StarKiller run, and the first time he’d been forced to leave the other man’s side for more than a few hours at a time. Naturally, he was reluctant.

“Oh, yeah. You’re flying out tomorrow, aren’t you?” Finn looked just as uncomfortable with the idea as Poe felt, which helped ease the ache in the pilot’s chest a bit. 

He nodded in answer, tugging fruitlessly on Finn’s wrist. “Yeah. So lay down here and let me get some sleep, would ya?” Poe patted the blankets beside him invitingly, hoping cautiously that this wouldn’t be something they had to talk about. He knew he wanted Finn to stay, to let their contact between them soothe his nightmares and remind both of them that they were not alone. Analysis of that desire would not make it go away, but it certainly would make Poe uncomfortable – and Finn too, if he knew much about the former Storm Trooper. 

“You – you want me to stay? Here?” 

Poe nodded again, feeling strangely vulnerable to admit that fact. It wasn’t like Finn didn’t already know, or might judge him for his honesty – Finn was too good for that. But Poe wasn’t one to be vulnerable with friends, let alone with anyone else. This was something new, something only related to Finn. That vulnerability, though, while different, was also something Poe found that he liked. He liked their camaraderie, the easy intimacy between them – he liked Finn, plain and simple. 

For now, though, while the Resistance fought on and Rey searched for Luke Skywalker, and Finn did his best to figure out what it meant to be his own man, liking Finn was all Poe could do. It wouldn’t be fair to put any other expectations on the man, or on himself. Relationships in wartime were hard-pressed to survive, and Poe wasn’t on the planet enough to make it work. But this, this was enough. For now. 

As long as Finn would spend the blasted night! Why hadn’t he said anything yet? What was so wrong with sleeping in the same bed? It wasn’t like Poe was propositioning him --

Finn interrupted Poe’s inner tantrum by lying back on the mattress and sliding under the covers against Poe’s side. The pilot rolled to face his companion, the grin on his face too wide and toothy to be charming – but it was genuine, true. Poe slid his hand from Finn’s wrist to tangle their fingers together. 

“Stay, okay?” Poe whispered into the darkness, after the desk lamp had been extinguished. The words were easier to say in the dark, but his tongue still felt thick as they formed in his mouth. 

The reply was wordless, no more than a strong arm wrapped around Poe’s waist and a tight squeeze. The gesture meant more, coming from Finn, than any words ever could. Words were easy to turn into lies, while gestures and touches could be nothing but honest. Not when the one doing to the touching dispensed them as carefully as Finn always did. 

Poe fell asleep with a smile on his face and his cheek nestled against Finn’s chest.


End file.
